


What are You Trying to do To Me?

by Kelsocspanatarailka (orphan_account)



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: AU where Maya marries Lucas, F/M, Future Fic, Lucas is a vet, Maya Friar, first fic don't hate, the gang is all grown up, they still live in New York
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 14:10:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7621456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Kelsocspanatarailka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The domestic life of Tol and Smol; or Lucas and Maya have found their forever. Unrelated oneshots from the POV of various characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1: Lucas

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so please don't hate. I was listening to a lot of different song while writing this...  
> Idea from prompts for days' tumblr. I own nothing, except maybe the idea to apply this prompt list to a one-shot series. And I might not even be the first so that ownership is ambiguous at best…  
> I most definitely don’t own GMW, because if I did, I’d know Sabrina Carpenter, and I might implode. And that would be kinda gross, just saying. Okay, ramble over, on to the fic!

Prompt 1: Smol makes leaning tower of stuff to reach high things. (I added in kitchen destruction because it just made sense.)

“I’m back,” Lucas calls down the hall as he hangs up his jacket, brushing snow from his hair. “You wouldn’t believe what happened at work today-“  
Lucas trails off when he sees that the living room is empty, and wanders back to the bedroom. That’s empty. He checks the art room, and that’s empty too. He heads to the kitchen, still searching. (Because where else could she be? Their apartment literally has like four main areas, and that’s it.)  
“Maya?” He walks around the corner and stops short because the kitchen is a disaster. There’s flour dusted across literally every surface, a suspicious stain on the wall at Lucas’s chest height, and some really gross-looking goopy stuff dripping from the ceiling. (Like, how even?) And behind the counter is a pile of chairs and moving boxes. And half on top of that (and halfway on the counter…) is…Maya. Correction: Maya’s legs. Or, at least Lucas thinks so. She’s commandeered a pair of his athletic shorts, (and the belt to his good robe, tied under the rolled-under waistband to hold them up because they’re literally falling off) and one of his hoodies, both of which are positively coated in flour. (and still, come down to nearly mid-calf because she’s the size of a powder coated garden gnome.)   
Lucas can’t seem to find any words for this spectacle for a few moments; but when he does, they aren’t happy words.   
“Maya, what the hell happened to the kitchen?!?” Lucas demands, and from what he can see of her under the cabinetry, she appears to jump. She ducks down, her face just as coated in flour as the rest of her (why isn’t he surprised), and raises an irritated (white) eyebrow.  
“Well, just scare the living shit outta me, why don’t ya?” She frowns. “I didn’t hear you come in.”  
“Hm,” Lucas says into the hand he puts over his face. “Maya, what are you doing?”  
“I’m baking, Cactus Pete,” comes the response.   
“Baking,” Lucas replies with his face still in his hand.  
“Well, yeah.” Maya sounds incredulous; as if Lucas is the stupid one because he can’t envision the connection between her destroying their newly rented kitchen and baking. How primitive of him.   
“I’m not seeing that.” Lucas sighs. Maya opens her mouth, but Lucas cuts her off. “And can you get off the counter? Because you’re making me really nervous. You’re gonna kill yourself.”  
Maya grumbles, but hops off the counter/chair/box masterpiece she’s made, muttering all the while about fun-killing cowboys.  
“What’s your problem today?” Maya narrows her eyes, stepping up to him with upturned chin until her hairline is nearly touching his wrist.   
Lucas opens his eyes, lowers his hand and levels her with his most unimpressed look.   
“Have you seen this room?” He deadpans, and Maya’s nose wrinkles, looking around.   
“Touché.” She admits. (He tries not to think of how cute the expression is, paired with the fact that without her damned heels on, he has to have at least a foot on her.) “It’s cold, and I wanted to make you something good to eat. The recipe said ‘easy’…”  
She tosses a glare at the cookbook on the counter. (Covered in flour and sugar.)   
“And you were on the counter, why again?” Lucas asks. He tries to understand but attempting to figure out Maya’s motivations without asking her gives him a headache.  
“I couldn’t reach the cookie sheet.” She shrugs. “You put it away, you giant.”  
“Sorry about that.” Lucas grimaces. He remembers putting it away. He’d been on the phone with Zay at the time and shoved the sheet in the first available space, which happened to be on the very top shelf. He forgets, sometimes, that Maya and high shelves don’t get along very well without a mediator; such as his arm, or a stack of chairs.   
“Help me clean up?” She tries. “I know it’s a mess.”  
“Maya.” Lucas groans, raking hair out of his face and peeling off his tie.  
“I’ll make dinner?” She offers.  
“No way.” He shakes his head. “If we do this, I’m taking you out. The kitchen needs a break.”  
“I should try to bake more often.” Maya sasses, crossing behind him to grab the roll of paper towel.   
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Lucas narrows his eyes, but she just laughs.   
“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Ranger Rick.” She smirks. “Now, how was work?”  
She’s bound to be the death of him.


	2. Maya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Maya's turn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was surprisingly satisfying, despite it's length.

Prompt 2: Tol hits head on doorframes due to tolness issues. Smol tries (fails) not to laugh...  
“Where are you, Shortstack?” Lucas calls. “I come bearing paintbrushes.”  
“In here!” Maya shouts back. She loves him. She also loves paintbrushes. But he bought them, so it’s safe to say that Maya loves Lucas for many reasons, but so-late-it’s-early fine-tip paintbrush runs are chief on the list.  
“Alright, so I got two different brands, because the guy didn’t wanna tell me which were better, and-“ Lucas cuts himself off by missing the last step down into the art room and promptly smacking his head against the doorframe so hard he stumbles back. (Surprisingly, he doesn’t drop the paintbrushes, but his forehead all but bruises instantly.) “Shit!”  
“…” (Many things occurred to Maya as Lucas approached the door, but not one of them was a warning about ducking his head, because she’s never had a problem with it, even in heels.) So at the moment, it occurs to her that she should probably check on Lucas who’s sat down hard on the stairs and is currently blinking like he’s dazed. (Which he damn-for-certain might be.) But all she says is, “If I were you, I wouldn’t go to bed anytime soon.”  
If anything, Lucas looks up a little behind when the comment called for and blinks. “Huh?”  
“Do you have a concussion, Sundance?” Maya squints.  
“I don’t think so.” Lucas blinks again, and his eyes start to clear. “Hurts, though.”  
“I bet.” Maya does well at containing the chuckle that bleeds into her words, but she can’t do that and suppress the smile.  
“Whas funny?” Lucas slurs a little and frowns, then grimaces and touches feather-light fingers to his (yep, already bruised) brow.  
“Your face.” Maya bites her lip, then hops off her stool and walks over to Lucas. (Blinking in the middle of the floor like a big baby…) “C’mon, Huckleberry. Don’t forget to duck.”  
And she leads him back out of the art room, and over to the couch, then goes into the kitchen for an ice pack. (Which they keep on hand after Maya rolled her ankle falling off of the chair she’d been standing on.)  
“What am I gonna do with you?” She mutters under her breath, touching the ice to Lucas’s head.  
“Love me.” He murmurs, grinning lazily like the dope he is, and holding the ice to his own forehead.  
“If I have to.” Maya sighs dramatically. “Ya sap.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter, guys. But i'll update again sometime this month, i think... Maybe next week. I dunno. I'm kinda over the whole committing to a chapter thing, honestly.


	3. Chapter 3: Farkle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkle time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I headcannon that some days, Maya goes over to Riley and Farkle's house and just plows through through their food, so... yeah.  
> This happened.

Prompt: Smol eats more than Tol and people wonder where Smol puts it. Bonus: Tol mistakes Smol for a child. (Although, in this case, it's more of a jab...)

Farkle's knows he's a genius, true, but he’s never seen anything like the scientific phenomenon before him. The “Clique Six” are all over at his and Riley’s apartment for dinner/movie night, and legitimate tears are coming to his eyes. He has to resist the urge to run for his tablet, a notepad, a pen, anything to capture the data from this spectacle. (He only stays his fidgeting with the thought of girlfriend’s face should he interrupt dinner so suddenly in the name of science. The other thing that keeps him still is the fear that his least move should startle this rare spectacle in her natural habitat. And cue the tears again.)  
“This lasagna’s really good, Riles.” Maya voice mutters low, heaping a (fifth, sixth?) serving onto her plate. At this point, Riley only nods, her gaze on Maya's fork as it travels at a dizzying rate. Smackle doesn’t even look up from her own first plate. Neither Lucas nor Zay’s eyes have budged from Maya throughout the meal, either; albeit with two very different expressions. Lucas’s face is covered with surprise, Zay’s with something straddling the border between admiration, horror and maybe a bit of jealousy.  
Farkle, for his part, has known Maya since they were five. That’s nearly twenty years he’s spent around her, and she’s never packed it away like she is tonight. He wants to record this, because he's sure she's breaking some kind of record. She's shoveling her way through a seventh plate, with no signs of slowing down. She’s eating like she’s never eaten in her life. Farkle has a theory, and to test it, he proposes an experiment.  
He reaches out slowly and slides the pan of lasagna (or what's left of it, at least) away from Maya. Her head snaps up and Farkle lets the pan go. Maya glares, all but snarling as she drags the pan back over.  
“You hungry, Maya?” Lucas raises an eyebrow, and she turns to him, licking away the sauce dripping down her chin and sitting up, appearing to snap out of her trance now that she’s aware the whole table is staring at her.  
“Sorry.” She swallows, flashing a sheepish smile with teeth that are miraculously still white, considering the amount of tomato sauce she’s ingested. “I guess so.”  
“Did you miss breakfast, Peaches?” Riley says with a little more amusement than is probably appropriate for the question.  
“Never.” Maya actually looks offended by that.  
“Then what’s happening here, sugar?” Zay pipes up because these instances has been occurring since Maya was five, but one hasn't happened in a while.  
“I dunno.” Maya shrugs. (Like she didn’t eat over half the pan by herself.) “I was just hungry.” She picks up her fork, and appears to consider the last piece of lasagna in the pan, then puts the fork back down. “Man, you messed me up.”  
“You needed to stop anyway.” Lucas shrugs and Maya wrinkles her nose. “You’ll make yourself sick.”  
“Yeah, yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Cry me a river, McBoing Boing.”  
“You’ll be the one crying at two in the morning because you regret eating the three-millionth piece of lasagna.” Lucas retorts. “You’re lucky you don’t already have a stomachache.”  
“Okay, first of all, I don’t think I’ve had three million pieces of lasagna in my life, let alone in one night,” Maya scoffs. “And second of all, what do I look like, a five-year-old? I don’t get stomachaches, Huckleberry.”  
“Yeah, okay.” Lucas shrugs. “And just for the record, you do look like a five-year-old at times, Shortstack.”  
Lucas stands, clears Maya’s plate and his own, and is gone before Maya can even turn the comment over in her head. Farkle can tell the moment she uncovers the jab because she turns a downright murderous gaze towards the doorway Lucas disappeared into. Her eyebrows furrow, her nostrils flare, and her face turns pink; then red. And at that moment she’s out of her chair and into the kitchen, yelling insults at Lucas, while he laughs so hard, he can be heard in the dining room.  
"Science." Farkle nods sagely.  
“Science is dangerous.” Smackle murmurs back gravely; and Zay laughs with head tossed back, while Riley frowns. (Only because she didn't hear what they said and she wants to laugh to, and Zay won't tell her, he just calls her sugar and that's nice and all but no.)  
After clearing off the table, the others move to the den for the movie. No one bothers to mention later, how Maya crawls into Lucas’s lap during the film, a grimace on her face. No one mentions Lucas holding her obligingly close as she buries her nose in his neck. And no one mentions Maya’s uncomfortable murmurs to Lucas and the bass of his voice whispering back.  
But it’s two in the morning when Farkle hears the rustle of paper and sees Lucas’ teeth shine white in the glow of the flat screen.  
“I hate you, Hopalong.” Maya moans, passing Lucas a five dollar bill.  
“I called it, though,” Lucas shrugs gently, pocketing the cash.  
“I’m never eating again.” Maya throws an arm over her eyes.  
“Lies.” Lucas returns.  
“I’m never eating lasagna again.” Maya insists.  
“More lies,” Lucas says boredly.  
“I still hate you.” Maya pouts.  
“And that’s the biggest lie of all,” Lucas grins broadly.  
“Go away, Sundance.” Maya huffs.  
“Never.” Lucas holds Maya closer.  
And after that, Farkle stops listening, but he's glad that Maya has someone she cares enough about to hate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that, and I'm sorry I've been scarce lately. I'm just lazy sometimes. I dunno. I'm working on it.  
> At any rate, I've noticed that my original end note on the first chapter seems to be travelling. If anybody sees it...well, you can try and catch it, I guess. Send it to me, lol. Be breezy, children.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is arguably a drabble...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like this one the most so far, even though it's the shortest.

Prompt: Tol likes to literally hold things over Smol's head and Smol yells at them.

Riley knows by now that even being in the presence of Lucas and Maya together is an invitation for entertainment/anarchy. 

“They’re mine, Maya.” Lucas tries to swallow the smile creeping across his face but fails. Maya narrows her eyes.  
“I had ‘em first, Huckleberry!” She growls, “and if you expect to retain all of your internal organs, you’ll let the headphones go.”  
Lucas just smirks and holds them higher, causing Maya to jump higher.   
“You jerk!” She grits her teeth and leaps high enough to graze the bottom of the headset with her fingertips. Lucas grins and wiggles the phones.   
“Ooh, almost, Shortstack.” He laughs. Maya glowers and stops jumping; eyeing the headphones. She narrows her eyes to slits, lunges, and hooks a foot around the back of Lucas’ knee. She jerks her foot towards herself, and when Lucas’s leg buckles and he throws out his arms for balance, she snatches the headset and throws herself away from the swing of his hand. He lurches after her, but she runs until she reaches the couch and falls across Riley’s lap dramatically.   
“Peaches,” Riley sighs, changing the channel again.   
“Save me, Riles!” Maya begs as Lucas nears, preparing to snatch her up. “Do the thing!”  
“Maya.” Riley rolls her eyes.  
“Please, honey?” Maya pleads, sparing Lucas a glance.   
“Fine.” Riley groans, then straightens up; waving her hand over Maya majestically. “As the Princess of New York, I hereby grant Maya royal amnesty.”  
“Aww, c’mon!” Lucas stops and throws up his hands in disappointment as Maya jumps up and gloats in his face. “Why, Riley?”  
“She’s my Peaches, Lucas.” Riley shrugs. “I can’t just let her get run over.”  
“Yeah!” Maya pumps a fist. “That’s right!”  
“You’re a sore winner.” Lucas crosses his arms.   
“No such thing, Huckleberry.” Maya smirks. She proceeds to do a happy dance, and even though Lucas is still pretending to be angry, he can’t contain the adoration that spreads across his face. Riley smiles and sits back. It’s been a long road, but she and Farkle are happy, and she’s glad Lucas and Maya are too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That end note better not still be floating around...  
> Anyway, this is late af, and I don't really have an explanation except that I'm kinda dead on my feet these days... So, yeah. Enjoy tho.   
> Leave me a comment or Kudos. And if you like Avengers or Star Wars, go to my profile. I've posted some new stuff.

**Author's Note:**

> Just thought I'd specify...the gang are all adults, living in the same neighborhood, unless stated otherwise. Lucaya is the main ship, and the others will just sorta fall into place, I guess…  
> If anyone wants, i'm willing to list the song/s I listen to as i write the chapter.


End file.
